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By Marc Turnage

Three miles southeast of Bethlehem sits Herodium, the palace fortress built by Herod the Great (Matthew 2). Overlooking the birthplace of Jesus, Herod’s fortress guarded the eastern roads through the wilderness from Bethlehem to En Gedi. It also served as a reminder of the difficult political situation in which the Jews found themselves within the first century. Herod represented Rome—the pagan empire that exploited the resources of the land of Israel for its benefit. 

Herod built the artificial cone shaped hill to commemorate his military victory against the last of the Hasmoneans, Mattithias Antigonus, who was aided by the Parthians. Herod won a skirmish as he fled Jerusalem, and later built Herodium, the palace-fortress he named after himself, on this site. Herodium consists of two complexes: the palace-fortress and the lower palace. The palace-fortress consists of a circular double wall, with four towers (the largest of which faces to the east). Inside the structure, Herod built a private bathhouse, a triclinium (“U” shaped) dining room, reception halls, and living quarters. 

Archaeologists have recently uncovered the large entry gate into the palace-fortress. Jewish rebels during the First Jewish Revolt (A.D. 66-73) and the Bar Kochbah Revolt (A.D. 132-136) occupied Herodium. The Jewish rebels of the First Revolt converted the dining room into a synagogue. It was one of the last rebel strongholds to fall to the Romans in the First Revolt. Letters sent to the Jewish garrison at Herodium from the messianic leader of the Bar Kochbah Revolt, Shimon ben Kosiba, were discovered in caves along the shores of the Dead Sea. 

Josephus records that Herod the Great was buried at Herodium. After he died in Jericho in 4 B.C., his body was brought to Herodium where it was interred. Archaeologists discovered Herod’s tomb in 2006. They uncovered an ornate mausoleum on the northern side of the conical shaped hill of the palace-fortress. Pieces of Herod’s sarcophagus were also discovered. It had been smashed in antiquity. Excavations next to the tomb uncovered a stairway that led from the bottom of the hill to the entry gate of the palace-fortress, as well as a small theater. The box seating of this theater contained ornate decorations including plaster molding and beautiful frescoes. Herod constructed this theater, most likely, for the visit of Marcus Agrippa, both a close friend of his and of Caesar Augusts (Luke 2).

The lower palace consists primarily of a large bathhouse and pool complex. Roman style bathhouses consisted of four main areas: changing room, cold bath, tepid bath, and a warm/hot room that could either function as a steam room or a dry sauna. The bathhouses at Herod’s palaces had these features. The pool at Herodium was heated as well as the bathhouse. 

There is a certain irony that within the shadow of Herodium, the angels proclaimed the good news of the birth of Jesus to the shepherds in the field. Herod’s fortress and monument to himself overlooked the very place where it would be announced that a new king would be born and that he would be Israel’s Messiah. And, it also stood watch when Herod’s soldiers killed the young boys seeking to remove the threat of the child born to Mary and Joseph. 

Marc Turnage is President/CEO of Biblical Expeditions. He is an authority on ancient Judaism and Christian origins. He has published widely for both academic and popular audiences. His most recent book, Windows into the Bible, was named by Outreach Magazine as one of its top 100 Christian living resources. Marc is a widely sought-after speaker and a gifted teacher. He has been guiding groups to the lands of the Bible—Israel, Jordan, Egypt, Turkey, Greece, and Italy—for over twenty years. 

Website: WITBUniversity.com  
Facebook: @witbuniversity
Podcast: Windows into the Bible Podcast

“Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God” (Luke 2:25-28 NIV).

We live in a world of instant gratification—fast food, the internet, video-on-demand, instant messaging, and so on. The story of Christmas, however, is about patience, not immediacy. It’s about God fulfilling His long-awaited promise to Israel’s fathers, answering the hope of redemption. 

Simeon waited (Luke 2:25-35). He hoped. He trusted. He waited for the salvation of Israel (2:25). And, as an old man, he knew that when he held the baby Jesus he would not be there to see the completion of the child’s mission (2:28-32), yet he trusted that God would fulfill His promises through this child. He only caught a glimpse of what he waited for, and he was content because he knew that God was faithful and would do what He promised. 

In our world of instant gratification, we often want our faith to function in the same way. Instant. Immediate. And when it doesn’t happen in that manner, we go through a litany of frustration with God, excuses why it hasn’t happened, even blaming it on a lack of our faith or sin in our lives. Our faith can be rather feeble and immature when compared to that of Simeon’s, who had the patience to wait and never lose sight of the God who promised. 

Are we content to play a part in God’s overall plan? Christmas poses that question to us. The figures of the Christmas story—Zechariah and Elizabeth, the shepherds, the wise men, Mary and Joseph, Simeon and Anna—all played roles in God’s redemptive plan. None of them saw the final fulfillment of His redemptive promises, and neither have we. 

Yet, are we willing to play our part in His plan? Simeon waited patiently. He hoped. He trusted. And he rejoiced to see part of God’s promise fulfilled, knowing that the God who promised would ultimately bring His promises to fulfillment.

PRAYER

Lord, when we look at the world around us, waiting is difficult. Being patient challenges us, but we know that You fulfill Your plans and promises. So, we submit to You obediently to play whatever role You have for us for Your glory. Amen.

By Mark Gerson

One of the magnificent gifts of the Bible is how multiple interpretations of the same passage, even when they differ significantly, can teach us truths that can help us live better, happier, and more meaningful lives. A classic example is in the great story of Joseph.

In Genesis, the Pharaoh has what he thinks are two different dreams. In one dream, seven thin cows eat seven healthy cows. In the next dream, seven sickly ears of grain swallow seven healthy ears of grain. 

The Pharaoh calls in his advisors, none of whom could interpret the dreams “for Pharaoh.” The phrase “for Pharaoh” would not be necessary if the purpose of the clause were to tell us that the necromancers interpreted the dreams. By the Torah telling us these advisors could not interpret the dream “for Pharaoh,” we can assume that they did offer interpretations—but none satisfied the Pharaoh. 

The Pharaoh’s concern was about to be alleviated. His cupbearer recalled that there was a Hebrew slave he knew from prison who was a remarkable dream interpreter. The Pharaoh summoned the slave—Joseph. 

Joseph told the Pharaoh the two dreams were really one, and they meant that Egypt was about to experience seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine. This situation, Joseph explained, could be mitigated by appointing a talented administrator. 

One could spend a lifetime studying this sequence. But perhaps the first question is: Was the dream easy or hard to interpret? There is disagreement on this fundamental question, and both answers are fascinating and helpful. 

As Rabbi YY Jacobson relates, the great Rebbe Menachem Schneerson said the dream was easy to interpret. The cows and the wheat were obvious food sources, and seven healthy ones being followed by seven sickly ones thus clearly indicate feast followed by famine.

Why, then, did all of the Egyptian dream interpreters get it wrong? The Rebbe points out one detail that confounded them: the cows and the grain existed alongside each other for some time before one swallowed the other. Given that the Egyptians believed feast and famine are mutually exclusive—it is one or the other—the necromancers searched for other interpretations, none of which satisfied the Pharaoh. 

Joseph, to the contrary, knew feast and famine are not mutually exclusive. Life, he knew from personal experience and Jewish teaching, always consists of both. Jewish grooms break a glass under the chuppah (the wedding canopy) to symbolize that we remember and prepare for sadness even in our times of greatest joy. Conversely, we are prohibited from sitting shiva, the Jewish mourning ritual, on a holiday. We are wise to deposit some of our joy in a place where we can draw upon it in times of sadness. For Joseph, then, the coexistence of feast and famine is neither complicated nor impossible. It is part of a mature approach to the world God designed. 

Rabbi David Fohrman takes another approach. The dream, he implies, took a very talented interpreter like Joseph to decipher. How did Joseph do so? It was not really any technique or even special gift. He just knew how to think. God spoke directly with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob—Joseph’s great-grandfather, grandfather and father—all the time. God never spoke directly with Joseph, but Joseph cited and referenced God all the time. Joseph believed God directed the events of the world, both the big (like feast and famine in Egypt) and small (the details of his life). He did not need a constant dialogue with God to realize that. In fact, he did not need a dialogue at all. 

To Joseph—but only to Joseph—the dreams were obvious. Joseph, too, had two dreams that were really one. Moreover, there are only two people in the Torah described in the same way that the healthy cows are described (“beautiful of appearance”)—they are Joseph and his mother, Rachel. And there is only one person in the Torah described as having “thin/soft” anything. That is Joseph’s aunt, Leah, who was also the mother of his step-siblings who threw him in the pit. For the “thin” to eat the “beautiful”—and, as is described in the Pharaoh’s dream—to leave no trace of the incident afterwards: that was obvious. That was Joseph’s life. He went from being the favorite son of his wealthy father to, as a result of the perfect crime, an imprisoned slave. And, as he saw in his audience with the Pharaoh, misfortune can be reversed, as well. 

Joseph knew, as Rabbi Fohrman shows, how God communicates with us. Our life experiences are the notes God posts on our message board. These notes may not be meaningful or even decipherable when they are posted. They may seem random, disconnected, or even cruel. But there just might come a time when we realize one such experience is the private language through which God had always planned to communicate with us—and recalling it allows us to understand, choose, or do something that means everything. 

The second theory—that the Pharaoh’s dream is hard to interpret—might be the most important lesson we will ever learn. If we were to go through life thinking every conversation we have and everything we do just might be a message from God whose massive significance will be revealed later, how would our life change?  

We would treat every experience, no matter how seemingly minor, as one that might help us to advance God’s purpose. We would still feel the pain of misfortune but would be able to also see it as plausibly the secret to the ultimate fortune in the future. We would notice everything. We would be alive to the fact that every moment is one of possibly divine significance. 

In other words, we would be alive. 

Mark Gerson, a devoted Jew, is an entrepreneur and philanthropist who (along with his wife, Rabbi Erica Gerson) is perhaps the world’s largest individual supporter of Christian medical missions. He is the co-founder of African Mission Healthcare (AMH) and the author of a forthcoming book on the Haggadah: The Telling: How Judaism’s Essential Book Reveals the Meaning of Life.  

Website: therabbishusband.com
Twitter: @markgerson
Podcast: The Rabbi’s Husband

By Arlene Bridges Samuels

Each Christmas, we have the opportunity to rediscover the Gospel accounts that covey the most miraculous birth story ever recorded in history. After Mary and Joseph’s 80-mile trek from Nazareth, Mary gave birth to Jesus in the small town of Bethlehem. Located five-and-a-half miles south of Jerusalem, this town was the ancestral home of Joseph as well as the birthplace of King David. Early Christian traditions depict the birth of Jesus within a cave in Bethlehem. In A.D. 326, the Church of the Nativity was built over the traditional site of Jesus’ birthplace.

However, since the birth of Jesus over 2,000 years ago—with its angelic announcements, heavenly hosts praising God, and shepherds bowing down before their long-awaited Messiah—Bethlehem has experienced a far different kind of story. Today, Bethlehem’s normally bustling streets are empty due to the COVID-19 pandemic. The annual Christmas tree is lit in Manger Square, but thousands of pilgrims are not there for the joyous annual celebration. Businesses are suffering due to the lack of tourists, and Midnight Mass at the Church of the Nativity will take place online this year. Maryana al-Arja, owner of the 120-room Angel Hotel, sums up the bleak holiday with the comment: “Bethlehem is dead.” 

Along with Bethlehem’s economic crisis, the pandemic—recorded by WorldoMeter for the Palestinian population at large—shows 125,506 cases, 1,198 deaths, and 101,355 recovered. The outlook is not hopeful, especially when we add in Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas’s rejection of the Abraham Accords. His cooperation could have led to countless benefits for Palestinians. Unfortunately, when the United Arab Emirates signed on in September 2020, Abbas immediately denounced the signing as a “despicable decision and a betrayal.” Palestinians have suffered under his dictator-like reign since 2005 with no elections in sight, although the presidency is supposed to be limited to a four-year term. The 85-year-old Abbas enjoys life in his multimillion-dollar mansion in Ramallah along with an estimated $100 million net worth. Nations have given billions to Palestinians, yet Abbas and other Palestinian Authority leaders continue to embezzle and/or misappropriate government funds at the expense of the wider population. 

Bethlehem has seen repeated conflicts over the last century compounded with years of competing narratives between Jews and Palestinian Arabs. The 400-year occupation by the Ottoman Empire lasted until 1917—with the subsequent British occupation ending after the Jewish state was rebirthed in 1948.  The Jewish town of Bethlehem increasingly enjoyed a thriving tourist trade that especially helped the many Arab-Christian businesses there.  Then on December 21, 1995, Bethlehem came under the governance of the Palestinian Authority as mandated by the hopeful 1995 Oslo Accords. At that time, Yasser Arafat (1929-2004) led the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) and continued to covertly mastermind his terrorist operation against Israel.  

For Arab Christians living in Bethlehem, economic threats against them began to increase in the 1990s and then really accelerated in 1995 after the Oslo Accords turned Bethlehem over to Palestinian rule. The London Times wrote in 1997 that life in Palestinian Authority-ruled Bethlehem has become insufferable for many members of the dwindling Christian minorities. The article went on to say that increasing Muslim-Christian tensions have left some Christians reluctant to celebrate Christmas in the town at the heart of the story of Jesus’ birth.

The Muslim Palestinians stole money and land from Arab Christians, beat them, and refused to protect them from gangs and violence. In 1990, Bethlehem’s population included 23,000 Christians—a 60% majority. By 2001, they were a minority, having fled over the years due to persecution. 

From 2000 to 2005, the Palestinian’s Second Intifada (uprising) triggered an avalanche of fear, terrorism, and sorrows for Jews. Statistics compiled by Shin Bet, Israel’s security service, show that 138 suicide attacks used numerous methods of terrorism, including stabbings and bombings on buses, in restaurants and nightclubs, and on the streets. When the Intifada ended, terrorists had murdered 1,038 Israelis. The International Institute for Counter-Terrorism lists 8,341 wounded Israelis—among them 5,676 civilians and 2,665 security forces.

As an example of the Palestinian mindset, Dr. Ahmad Abu Halabiya had preached a mosque sermon on October 13, 2000, shortly after the Second Intifada began. On live Palestinian Authority television, he asserted, “Allah the almighty has called upon us not to ally with the Jews or the Christians, not to like them, not to become their partners, not to support them, and not to sign agreements with them.” 

I traveled to Israel twice during the Second Intifada, with just a few of us on the first trip and later a group of 40 Christians. Both trips were designed to express our friendship and desire to help. We purposely boarded buses, a frankly scary experience, not knowing if a suicide bomber would blow them up. Sitting on the buses, we would loudly proclaim, “We are Christians, and we are here to say we stand with you!” That brought many smiles from passengers and some even clapped. 

Israelis have told me over the years that every Israeli knew someone who had been murdered or injured as a result of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. One friend shared how he had fought inner hatred toward terrorists when his teenagers took buses to their schools. He never knew if they would come home. It was stress on steroids for leaders, parents, children, and security forces in a Jewish population that for decades had only longed for and reached out repeatedly for peace.  

Figures vary as to how many Palestinians died during the Second Intifada, based on which entities list them. Some say 3,189 deaths, mostly of terrorists. Afterward, Israel was forced to enact strategic defensive measures to stop terrorists—who at the time could simply walk into Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, or elsewhere wearing a suicide vest. As a heartbreaking example, a Hamas-affiliated suicide bomber lurked outside the Dolphinarium Discotheque in Tel Aviv murdering 21 Israelis, sixteen of them teenagers.

In Bethlehem in 2001, during the Second Intifada, terrorists committed the sacrilegious act of commandeering the Church of the Nativity. At this site, revered by Christians worldwide as the traditional location of Jesus’ birth, they took as hostages about 60 priests, monks, and nuns—Armenian, Roman Catholic, and Greek Orthodox—who lived and administrated the church compound. In the 39-day siege, the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) refused to enter the church so as not to damage or violate the Christian holy site. Numerous negotiations and encounters finally ended it. Afterward, priests told stories of terrorist beatings, intimidation, tearing up Bibles for toilet paper, and stealing valuable sacred objects. The outcry about the siege reverberated across the Christian world. 

No checkpoints existed before the Intifada. But afterward they became a necessity, along with electronic fencing flanked by paved pathways, barbed-wire fences, and trenches. They included non-lethal shocks and video monitoring. Most anti-Israel activists protest the “Apartheid Wall,” which Israelis call the “Separation Wall.” It’s a handy photo op for protesters who claim that the wall totally encircles Bethlehem, imprisoning those who live there.  It does not. One side of the structure was built in 2002 because Palestinian snipers were killing Jewish drivers along a major highway. 

Despite the continual conflicts, Bethlehem is the burial place of Jacob’s beloved wife Rachel, the adopted home of Ruth the Moabite who married Boaz the Bethlehemite, and the birthplace of King David. These examples and many others authenticate the rich Jewish presence and heritage within this ancient town. The biblical significance of Bethlehem is undeniable. 

In closing, Reverend Dr. Dean Haun, Senior Pastor of the First Baptist Church in Morristown, Tennessee, is authoring a book entitled The Christmas Prophecies. In it he shares the meaning of the town’s name, Bethlehem. “Its name comes from two Hebrew words. ‘Beit’ means ‘house.’ ‘Lechem’ means ‘bread.’ Together ‘Beit-lechem’ (Bethlehem) means the ‘House of Bread.’ Jesus declared in John 6:35: ‘I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst.’ The Bread of Life was born in the House of Bread.”

This Christmas, let’s continue to pray for Israelis as Palestinian terror remains a serious threat, and let’s also pray for Arab Christians living in Bethlehem and other Palestinian areas:

• Pray for safety for Arab Christians who live in Bethlehem and other Palestinian-controlled towns.
• Pray with appreciation for the witness of Arab Christians who are diligently representing Jesus and the Gospel message to their neighbors. 
• Pray for God’s continued protection over Israel as the entire populations still faces ongoing COVID-19 lockdowns. 
• Pray for God’s love, peace, and mercy to be extended to the Palestinian people. 

On this special day, as we celebrate the birth of the Messiah, let us reflect on these words found in the Book of Isaiah: “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). 

Arlene Bridges Samuels pioneered Christian outreach for the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC).  After she served nine years on AIPAC’s staff, International Christian Embassy Jerusalem USA engaged her as Outreach Director part-time for their project, American Christian Leaders for Israel. Arlene is now an author at The Blogs-Times of Israel and has traveled to Israel 25 times. She co-edited The Auschwitz Album Revisited by Artist Pat Mercer Hutchens and sits on the board of Violins of Hope South Carolina. Arlene has attended Israel’s Government Press Office Christian Media Summit three times and hosts her devotionals, The Eclectic Evangelical, on her website at ArleneBridgesSamuels.com.

By Marc Turnage

Bethlehem gains its notoriety as the birthplace of Jesus (Matthew 2:1; Luke 2:1-7); however, by the time of Jesus’ birth, the village already had quite a history. Bethlehem first appears in the Amarna Letters (14th century B.C.) as a Canaanite town. Its name comes from this period and means “house” or temple (“beth”) of Lahmu, a Canaanite deity; it did not, as is commonly assumed, mean “house of bread.” Bethlehem played an important role in the Old Testament, as it was the home of David (1 Samuel 16). 

Bethlehem’s location along the central watershed route that ran north-south through the Hill Country accounts for much of its importance. Located five-and-a-half miles south of Jerusalem and thirteen-and-a-half miles north of Hebron, it served as a major juncture of roads coming from east and west that connected to the watershed route. Its strategic position and close proximity to Jerusalem led Rehoboam, king of Judah, to fortify it as part of his defenses of Judah. So, too, Herod the Great built his palace fortress Herodium to the east of Bethlehem, guarding a road that ascended to the Hill Country from En Gedi in the first century B.C. 

Bethlehem sat at the eastern end of the Elah Valley (1 Samuel 17), whose western end opened onto the Coastal Plain, the land of the Philistines. Thus, when the Philistines moved into the Elah Valley (1 Samuel 17), Bethlehem was their goal, which explains the interest of Jessie and his son David in the conflict taking place in the valley. During the wars between David and the Philistines, the Philistines eventually set up a garrison at Bethlehem (2 Samuel 23:14-16; 1 Chronicles 11:16), indicating David’s struggles to control the major roadways of his kingdom. 

David’s connection to Bethlehem derived, in part, from its location within the tribal territory of Judah, in which it was the northernmost settlement of Judah (Judges 19:11-12). In the fields around Bethlehem, David’s ancestors Boaz and Ruth met, and the prophet Samuel anointed David in Bethlehem, at the home of his father Jessie (1 Samuel 16). 

In the first century, Bethlehem remained a small town on the southern edge of Jerusalem. The proximity of these two locations is seen in the stories of Jesus’ birth (Matthew 2 and Luke 2:1-38). Early Christian traditions, as well as the earliest Christian artwork, depict the birth of Jesus within a cave in Bethlehem. Homes in the Hill Country often incorporated natural caves into the structure. Animals could be kept within the cave, having the main living space of the family separated from the animals by a row of mangers. 

Following the Bar Kochba Revolt (A.D. 132-136), the Romans expelled Jews from Bethlehem and its vicinity as part of their expulsion of Jews from Jerusalem, which was renamed Aelia Capitolina. The Emperor Hadrian built a pagan sanctuary to Adonis above the cave identified as the birthplace of Jesus. The church father Tertullian confirmed that at the end of the second century A.D. no Jews remained in Bethlehem. 

In the fourth century, the Emperor Constantine—as part of his move toward Christianity—built three churches in Palestine (which is the name the Romans called the land at this time). One, the Church of the Nativity, he built in Bethlehem over the traditional site of Jesus’ birthplace. Begun in A.D. 326, the church incorporated the traditional cave identified as Jesus’ birthplace into the building. St. Jerome came to Bethlehem and lived in caves around the church at the end of the fourth century to learn Hebrew from the local Jewish population, so he could translate the Old Testament from Hebrew into Latin (the Vulgate). A Samaritan revolt in 529 partially destroyed the Constantinian church. The Emperor Justinian ordered its rebuilding, which the modern Church of Nativity reflects with minor modifications.

Very little archaeological work has been done in Bethlehem. Most comes from around the Church of the Nativity, but no systematic excavations have been carried out. The modern city of Bethlehem impedes the ability of much archaeological activity; thus, very little is known about Bethlehem’s archaeological past. 

Marc Turnage is President/CEO of Biblical Expeditions. He is an authority on ancient Judaism and Christian origins. He has published widely for both academic and popular audiences. His most recent book, Windows into the Bible, was named by Outreach Magazine as one of its top 100 Christian living resources. Marc is a widely sought-after speaker and a gifted teacher. He has been guiding groups to the lands of the Bible—Israel, Jordan, Egypt, Turkey, Greece, and Italy—for over twenty years.

Website: WITBUniversity.com  
Facebook: @witbuniversity
Podcast: Windows into the Bible Podcast

Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!” (Luke 2:10-14 NKJV) 

When we think about God’s redemption, we often focus on what it means to us. It’s a reflection of our Western, individualistic outlook. The Bible always looks at redemption with God at the center; it’s His doing. His people reap the benefits of His action, but He redeems. He displays His glory and greatness in bringing redemption to His people.

The angelic proclamation to the shepherds announced the good news of God’s redemption (Luke 2:10). His redemption has come to all people, but God is glorified. The angels announce three things in their message to the shepherds: God’s glory, His peace, and His favor. Ancient Judaism often identified the period of God’s redemption as reflective of these three words: God’s glory, His peace, and His favor. The angelic message announced that, in the birth of Jesus, God was fulfilling His promises to His people.

Their message centered on God. When Jesus grew up, He spoke about the kingdom of Heaven (God), which better translates as “God’s rule (or reign).” The recognition of God as king stood at the heart of Jesus’ message. Before we too quickly focus on what this means for us, we need to recognize that God’s redemption is about Him: His glory, His peace, His favor.

The sign of true spiritual maturity is progressing beyond what God can do for me (and how my spiritual life benefits me) to beginning to look at how we can bring God’s glory, peace, and favor into other people’s lives. In sending Jesus, God drew near; His glory is revealed. When we live our lives submitted to Him and loving others, striving to bring His glory, peace, and favor into their lives, His glory shines throughout the world and the good news of His redemption is proclaimed. 

PRAYER

Father, make us vessels of Your glory, peace, and favor to all humankind during this season. May our lives proclaim Your redemption for all people. Amen.

By Mark Gerson

We Jews have a concept of the lamed vavnik—that there are 36 people in every generation upon whom the world rests. My family has been deeply fortunate to know many of them. These are the Christian missionary doctors whom we know through the foundation we established 10 years ago, African Mission Healthcare, which partners with them to provide clinical care, infrastructure, and training in support of the African poor. These doctors live and work in conditions most people in the U.S. would consider impossible—making sacrifices that would otherwise be unimaginable—in order to live their Christian faith by bringing care to those who need it most. The Christian Broadcasting Network has been an extraordinary partner and friend in this work. 

Whether at the end of a day observing their work in Africa or conversing in the dining room of our Manhattan apartment when they are visiting the United States, my wife (a rabbi) and I always ask each missionary the same question. We have spent the day (or the evening) with you, we say, but we have not heard anything that most people would consider the “missionary” aspect of your work. You sacrifice everything to serve the poor in the name of Jesus Christ—but we have not heard you try to convince anyone to adopt your faith. How, then, do you conceive of the missionary aspect of your work? 

One missionary told me something I’ll always remember—he said one can only have that conversation with someone who asks you: “Why do you care so much?” This question only comes after the kind of deep and sustained engagement that leads one to ask that question. 

Similarly, other missionaries told us they are doing what Jesus would want them to or they are trying to imitate Christ, and by doing so, people sometimes ask them questions about what is leading them to such a life of productive sacrifice. 

One thing no missionary has ever said is that a successful missionary opens a conversation or begins a relationship by trying to share the Good News. That conversation can happen, but only after a relationship that begins in admiration and gratitude has already started. 

I was recalling these conversations today while studying the upcoming parsha (i.e. Torah reading)—Miketz. The Pharaoh had a disturbing set of dreams in which seven healthy cows get swallowed by seven sickly ones and then seven healthy sheaves of wheat get swallowed by seven sickly sheaves. He knew these dreams were significant and called in the magicians of Egypt to interpret them for him. We are not told what these interpretations were, but none satisfied him. 

The Pharaoh’s cupbearer told his boss he had been in prison with a “young Hebrew” who was a remarkable dream interpreter. The Pharaoh summoned this young Hebrew who, unlike the Egyptians, understood the concept of time (as physician and educator Leon Kass points out). The young Hebrew told the Pharaoh that Egypt was about to experience seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, suggested that the Pharaoh appoint a “discerning and wise man” to administer the situation, and produced a plan the administrator could execute. 

The young Hebrew—the young Jew—is, of course, Joseph.

There are many interesting and instructive lessons within Joseph’s interpretation. Rabbi Efrem Goldberg shows how Joseph, in his interpretation, “name drops” God several times. The Pharaoh does not ask about God; there is no reason to think that the Pharaoh even knew God. Joseph, as Rabbi Goldberg shows, is educating the Pharaoh about God—not by telling him directly—but by showing how God, working through Joseph, can solve the Pharaoh’s problem. And it works. The Pharaoh, upon hearing Joseph’s interpretation, announces to his servants: “Could we find another like this—a man in whom there is the spirit of God?” 

We Jews do not have missionaries like our Christian brethren do. We welcome converts, but it is not our mission to convert anyone to Judaism—and so we never try. But we are missionaries in a different sense. As Rabbi Shlomo Riskin says, Abraham was “the consummate missionary practicing ethical monotheism wherever he went.” We are called to be missionaries for God and His message of ethical monotheism, which people can seek in any number of ways and faiths. 

However one conceives of missionary responsibility, Joseph shows us how it is done. It is by learning the needs of the other, understanding the problems of the other—and working to fulfill those needs and solve those problems—that enables the larger conversation to be welcome. It is also by interpreting one’s dreams and giving helpful advice, helping others find their passion and mission in life, and giving advice as to how to live out that dream. It is through admirable action that others become inspired, and it is through the curiosity that accompanies such inspiration that opens the missionary conversation—one that started with Joseph and continues with the lamed vavnik we have come to know through our work with African Mission Healthcare.

Mark Gerson, a devoted Jew, is an entrepreneur and philanthropist who (along with his wife, Rabbi Erica Gerson) is perhaps the world’s largest individual supporter of Christian medical missions. He is the co-founder of African Mission Healthcare (AMH) and the author of a forthcoming book on the Haggadah: The Telling: How Judaism’s Essential Book Reveals the Meaning of Life.  

Website: therabbishusband.com
Twitter: @markgerson
Podcast: The Rabbi’s Husband